


Doomed by the Puppet

by DegenerateArtistPresent



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood and Gore, Curses, Doomed Timelines, Gen, Hopefully will get more severe as the comic goes on, May add artwork if I get the time, Multiple Deaths, The Felt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DegenerateArtistPresent/pseuds/DegenerateArtistPresent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of Schrödinger's cat, what if as Lord English came to the post scratch trolls world he left his worlds most prized possession with the members of the Felt by accident, dooming them all to an assortment of cruel deaths, one after the other? Watch as the puppet moves hand to hand between the gang, leaving each a terrible curse to fall upon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge of a Long Term Curse

**Author's Note:**

> For a great time now, I've been looking for prompts to begin working on writing. Sadly I found ones pertaining to Naurto fanfics for some reason, but one of the ideas for a fic was the single word curse which automatically reminded me of Lil' Cal. It's only wise to wonder what would happen in a doomed timeline if Cal was present in the Felt's Mansion, dooming all of Alternia including the A2 troll in the process.  
> Schrödinger's cat is an experiment that has a cat in a box with something that can kill it if the right requirements are met. When you close this box, you have split the timeline in essence, two timeline, one where the cat is alive, the other the cat is dead. Think of how Terezi caused the emergence of Davesprite.  
> The cat in this case is the Felt, and the catalyst as Lil' Cal. By leaving Lil' Cal here, English split the timeline between the alpha and doomed. In the alpha, he has not forgotten and returns to pick up the puppet before nonsense can occur, where in this doomed timeline, we shall see death as the center piece.

It wasn’t that the artifact in his hands was strange to look at, but more that it was cursed. DocScratch leaned back in his chair, staring at the Juju that he had in his possession. It’s very presence here would be frightening, if he wasn’t aware of what it would do. Omnipotency was both a blessing and a curse in his line as the first guardian for the world of Alternia, though the curse this item was filled to the brim with was far more dark than his own misfortune existence.

The doll’s stared up at him, its eye’s the only mirror in the entire mansion. He saw himself, or more accurately, he saw a giant cue ball. The master was always quick to judge him for his looks, no matter the context a conversation with him was. The alien was still very much a child, it’s wings never grew in, angering the matured creature. A fitting punishment to the thing that would doom entire sessions just so it could exist.

The puppet was now having the same effect, an irony that this puppet was only many of the master’s pawns created to wreck havoc. English had left it here for some reason or another, almost entirely dooming the universe that they inhabited. He dug his fingers into it, trying to tear at it with his clawless hands. Lord English’s favorite piece of property, treating him as if it was the master itself. He couldn’t stand being in the same room as it anymore.

He rolled his desk chair back, keeping the puppet in his left hand and pushing himself up from his seat with his other. He looked around his room, considering the place he could place it without the idea of it being around bothering him. Every square inch of the mansion was green, nothing in his room deviated this except for himself. His mind raced, many patterns ran through his head, infinitely giving thousands of possibilities and outcomes of placement it could take. DocScratch shook his head, deeming each one to be worse than the idea of holding the cursed juju in his mits.

And then there was a knock at his door. As much as it was expected, he still hesitated to open the door. He knew who it was and what would occur if he opened it in this state. And yet he was glad for this, it also left a mental smile in his head. ‘So that’s where we are in this plane.’

The door opened and in came Die. He always seemed to have a nervous streak going on that even Scratch couldn’t understand. It was almost laid back, but ever present for anyone with a mind of their own to notice. Not that it really bothered him that much, it wasn’t like it affected him directly if he tried or didn’t. “Hey boss, did you need us to do anything today?” Die had a weird lisp, present in some words, gone in others. He wrung his hands around his doll that also deviated from the green theme the Felt adhered to.

It was also a juju, but one that allowed the holder to teleport to a timeline that correlated to the members pin that was pulled from it, whether it was their own where the member had recently died, or an alternate one, where they could of died at any point along their way. Die would have been the more dominant of the doomed timeline runners if it weren’t for Egg’s and Biscuit’s time shenanigans.

Die eyed the puppet in DocScratch’s hands. It’s called out to him it felt like, demanding to be held. He put his doll into the pocket of his dress pants and walked closer to investigate it, almost no worry filled him as he stared at the puppet. Doc moved the puppet around, watching as dies irises orbited around in his head. Doc chuckled before he finally snapped his fingers before the confused felt member. “Would you possibly want to borrow Lord English’s favorite possession Die?”

He wrung his hands to the point he thought his soft skin would rub away. “Are… Are you ssure?” He put out his hand before pulling his hand back. “English won’t be pissed we have it here?”

Scratch couldn’t help but laugh at the question. “I would hate to say yes, but I have a feeling that he wouldn’t care too much of how it happened to pass from my hands to yours.” Die hesitated before finally nodding to his superior and took the puppet in his hands. It smiled at him, it’s cheeks as red as their master’s, the detail in the little green suit it wore was exquisite. His fingers gnawed into the material, not as soft as his own flesh, but still quite soft. DocScratch just watched as he looked the puppet over every square inch. know he was carolling Die out the door. “I’m sorry of being an improper host for you right now, but I need to get back to work. Lord English needs me to write up some dossiers of the Midnight Crew for something later this week and it’s more difficult to take care of both matters at the exact same time.”

The door closed in Die’s face, air blasting past him as the space it once took up was filled by the door and it slamming. Doc leaned his head against the door and cried a little to himself. Out of any reality he could of been stuck in, and he was stuck in this one. Then again, crying wasn’t much of a word for it, more like he made noises no one would ever be able to identify what exactly they were intended to sound like.

Die looked at the puppet in his hands and smiled for once in his great while. “All right Cal, let’s go see what the others are doing.”


	2. Fast Enough For You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Considering your name's Die, I'd be surprised if he didn't blame you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much longer, first chapter. Took me about a day to write, I don't remember the word count, but this should be more of a run than the prologue.

Lunch was soon to be served at the Felt’s Mansion, a strange feast at that. Considering many things, you could assume they ate marshmallows or something, but in actuality, they consumed really plain things and today was no exception.

Itchy was arguing with Crowbar like usual, along with Clover dancing at every living thing he could find (which today was a potted plant). The rest of the members had smaller conversations between each other, the only people missing were Die, Fin, and Doze.

Die froze for a second, squeezing the puppet in his hands as he realized what Fin missing meant. A fist connected with his face, knocking him over even with the knowledge that he knew it was coming.

Laughter filled the air as Fin came out from the kitchen, a sloppy joe in his hands as he approached the fallen comrade. “What’s up champ? Fallen on the job, eh?”

If it was any member of the Felt Die hated the most it was a tie between Itchy and Fin. Neither of them saw any difference between personal time and work, keeping grudges against the rest of the members while they themselves would go out of their way to make the others pay for their amusement.

Die picked himself up, anxiously making sure each pin in his hat was still there, along with the puppet in his arms was okay. He hid it behind himself as he knew that the shark like Felt member would surely make fun of it. Only then did he answer him back. “Y-You know fful well that I knew you did that.”

Fin cackled, “Do you really want to start a conversation of how I will do something without your knowledge, or are you going to have some lunch?” He threw the entire bun full of meat in his maw chomped down, the juices falling from the corners of his mouth as he smacked. He always seemed to think of his suit as a convenient napkin than a status symbol. “Besides,” Fin’s voice was muffled slightly as he continued, “It looks like you brought a little friend to lunch.”

He grabbed for the suited puppet behind Die’s back, his hands only centimeters away from the toy. “No!” Die could feel the eyes of the other twelve members of the Felt as he struggled to keep the large puppet to himself, turning one way to another to try and escape the eager hands.

A fist cracked against his nose, shooting pain through himself as he dropped the dummy and grasped the pain filled crevice, keeping it safe from further harm. Blood was dripping from it as he almost folded in on himself.

“Hah! Knew I’d need that last punch.” Fin held the doll in his hands, facing down at the wounded gangster. “This doll really means that much to you huh? Not like it’s that special.” He turned it toward himself and he grimaced at the face that stared back up at him. “Kind of creepy if you ask me. Would you mind if we burnt it?” His large teeth snapped into a crude smile.

“Noooo!” Blood continued dripping down Die’s lip as he became panicked, reaching up toward the smiling doll. “You can’t do that!”

Dark thoughts filled his mind as he thought of all the things DocScratch would do to him for not keeping it safe. Every type of punishment filled his head until he landed on the idea of what English would do to him. The destruction of himself even after death, now that was the coldest sounding reality he could think of.

“And what’s stopping me?”

“It’s L-….” Die stopped what he was saying, his panic finally leading him to an idea that even made him feel a bit disgusted by it’s severity. But that didn’t matter. If any of the other Felt destroyed the doll, it wasn’t his fault, it would be their’s. He almost too excited by the idea that he started to smile. No more getting pushed around by some of the guys, they’d be gone and he’d be one happy guy.

“Go ahead! Just take it away from me and ranssom it off!” He mockfully yelled at him, knowing he’d leave it well alone if he knew exactly who would show him his fate if he was as brash enough as to stray one thread on the dummy.

He ran to his room, hoping the fact he wasn’t making a noise would be good enough for the others not to follow him.

As Die skipped off, Fin turned back to the remaining lunch mates he had. Doze was slowly making his way into the room, much the same as usual. Cans, Stitch and Crowbar turned their heads away, possibly disgusted by the petty theft, or just trying to pretend they hadn’t seen. Trace was giving him a shy thumbs up as he also ate a sloppy joe, though he showed more etiquette and was clean. Snowman was giving off a small growl, whatever was her problem never bothered him, and Quarters was distracted, trying to get Clover to sit down for lunch when the small guy just wanted to dance the day away. Matchsticks was glaring at him as he ate a steak that was left over from the night before, extra well done a second time around as he liked it. Eggs and Biscuits were busy with stuffing their faces with food, and whatever that was, was now just a pile of mush on their faces.

That was everyone, but… Fin lifted his head up, testing the air. Slowly, lines of future trails from the respective members were littering the room, Itchy’s the most predominate as he was all over the place, certain times he would stop, where he seemed to making rude gestures. He knew exactly what he was ab-

The doll was ripped from his hands as the speedster traversed the room easily, stopping in all the predetermined areas of his future trail.

“No one said you got to play dolls wit’ out us Fin.” Itchy was back at the table and was enjoying a very bare looking sandwich along with some soda that he downed with no trouble before running off again. Finn ground his teeth as he went to go take his seat, the darn brat that guy was. Stealing from him. No sense of civility there.

* * *

 

Locking the door behind himself, Die leaned against the door as he slowly fell to the ground. No doubt Fin was thinking about unstitching the doll thread by thread with his large gangly teeth.

Die mocked what he guessed was a soft animal having too much of it’s own fur in its own body for any good to come of it. But it still really ticked him off that that guy could just go around stealing peoples dolls like that.

He pulled out his old juju, glad Fin hadn’t tried snatching that as well. He grabbed for a pin on his head as he knew little else to do. No way he could go back down stairs like this to get a bite. Fin’d just be down there, ready to make him witness his poor sweet Cal’s destruction.

The pin he had chosen was at random, on the solid side of his hat. He was pretty good at finding the one he needed if he thought hard enough about it, but right now it didn’t really matter toward him who’s it was, so long as there was air, no explosions, and food, he’d be fine with it.

He stuck it in, the fabric giving away easily as he felt time and space around him bend and quake. This sensation felt as if he were being thrown back and forth like some form of ragdoll, though he never moved an inch relative to the fact he was standing or sitting in the same fashion he had left his own timeline in. It stung and gave him headaches for the first few trips, but now it had turned into a necessity and the pain had ebbed lower and lower as he continually as to set grudges away out of sight on another’s doomed timeline’s body.

The room went dark to light as he saw what appeared to be Itchy’s body laying motionlessly in the snow. Blood had been draining from the many cuts in his body, glass scattered around the ground, a piece finding it’s way into Die’s shoe. He wasn’t much to look at, his body contorted in weird shapes as he lay there, dead.

It was cold, snow slowly showering down on him, he shivered as he looked around. Not much was different, he’d made the mistake of taking taking out Droog’s pin once, ending up in the center of nowhere, up above were two moons and there were creatures all around, all which seemed to seek him out.

There was no telling if it was one timeline or another and they changed periodically as he tried pins again within any time interval.

The doors to the mansion flew open, Stitch and Crowbar running out, looks of terror on their faces. Both ignored Die as they crouched in the snow, creating splotches of darker wet portions of their suits. Stitch put his fingers on Itchy’s throat checking for any sign of a pulse.

“You… You don’t have to do that.” Die called out, watching as Crowbar now began arguing with Stitch to get back inside and fix Itchy up. “He’s already dead.”

“I thought you ran to your room.” Stitch said before ducking back into the house, taking his time, lighting a cigar as he went to his workshop in the back. He knew with or without his services, that Itchy wasn’t going to make it.

Crowbar turned on Die, grabbing him by the arms, his face right up in his. “Is this your fault or something? Were you just waiting to exact your revenge against Fin for stealing your damned doll, that when you saw Itchy stole it, you just had to throw him out the window? Die, answer me.” He shook the other green man as hard as he could, a look of pure hatred on his face.

Die tried curling in on himself. He had known that Crowbar had always suspected him of something, out of any of the other Felt, he was the closest to anything resembling death, even if he hadn’t wanted to be present or it was just the fact he always played voo doo doctor with his doll when anything went south for him. Die couldn’t blame him for accusing him, but the fact still rattled him.

“N-n-n-o!” His voice cracked as he started to keep from crying in front of their third in command. He took in a gulp of air and continued when Crow had stopped shaking him as violently as he had been. “I- I was just used my doll and just - just ended up out here for ssome reason. For all I know this is an alternate timeline. W-where was I last? Maybe we can figure this out and let me go back. Yeah, that soundss good. Don’t you think?”

He continues to fidget under his superior’s glare as he finally nods. “We were having lunch.” He waited between his sentences for Die to answer, which each became a nod because he wasn’t sure if he could keep from squeaking. “And Fin stole that doll in the green suit.” He nodded, sweat slowly falling down his forehead. “And you ran to your room, or so we thought.”

“B-b—ut I did! And I stuck Itchy’s pin in see?” He held his doll up, the yellow solid stuck within the small dolls neck registering for both of them. “Sso that means…… Oh shit.” Die turns back at Itchy.

His muscles have had rigor mortis slowly setting in, the weather intensifying the change. The blood had finally finished pouring into the snow, still red from the snow melting from it’s heat.

Die almost cried there as well, not because he liked Itchy, but that this was the closest he’d gotten to a member of the Felt’s bodies after it had died. Sure, he’d done it time in and out, but this was different. This wouldn’t go away after he pulled the pin. In all terms, the pin was useless. He’d lost one of the eighteen pins he had due to the fact Itchy was dumb enough to fall out the third story window for some reason.

Crowbar let him go and turned back at Stitch, who’d finally rejoined them. “Any luck?”

“You know as damned well I did that the kid wasn’t gonna pull through. I don’t see why I had to go stare at the guy’s burnt effigy hanging there in the middle of the room.” Even without looking at him, you could tell that it wasn’t that he knew better toward Itchy’s death, he was actually quite upset from the fact. The unattached demeanor a ruse to hide how much it felt to lose the little guy.

Lucky for Itchy, the trauma had taken him before the majority of the pain hit him

* * *

 

The rest of the day, some members went to go see the remains of Itchy in the snow covered lawn. No one wanted to move him. It wasn’t like they cared much for him, even if he needed the dignity it was just easier to let him rot on the front porch, hopefully run off the Midnight Crew, even if that was a long shot.

The last person to arrive was none other than Doze himself. Alone, he grimaced at the body, taking in every little sight that there was, unable to escape it all. Itchy may of been a real pain, but he was the closest thing that Doze had to in a friend. He saved him countless times from interrogation from Clubs Deuce, even after it got old. He’d slow down time to time to throw a rude remark his way, but Doze had taken it as the guys way to show him that he cared. He barely slowed down for anyone else, and the fact he saved him regularly showed he was watching out for him.

And there he was. Still like the grave. His speed had finally caught up to him. Doze had watched him die, heard him scream and shout as everything happened.

He hadn’t slowed himself down then, that would have been too much to bare. Watching your best friend fall out the window, being unable to help as you just as slowly as them moved.

He’d been running around the house as fast as he could, for almost not a single intelligent reason, running past Doze at least five times before making his mistake. He’d been running on the third level of the mansion, effortlessly going up and down stairs without needing a brake. This had been his greatest show of speed, and as such, Doze thought he was just blowing off steam or something. Until he slowed time to a point, it seemed Itchy was walking rather dramatically.

He had been holding something at the time and Doze couldn’t tell what it was for some time. Now he bent over the body, which was now limp as a wet towel and pushed it slowly out of the way. Itchy's face was caught in the howl of the last few minutes of life he had contained, glass embedded in his eyes and face, coagulated blood hanging from every inch. Portions of his face were turning blue as it froze. A frightening image that Doze tried to ignore as he saw what he was looking for. Underneath him, somehow left unbloodied, was what he had seen with Itchy before he had fallen.

The thing smiled up at him as if it knew something he didn’t. He didn’t know what to think about it, and merely picked up the dummy before leaving his best friend in the world behind.


End file.
